


Claiming Welts

by Saraste



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual claw marks, Established Relationship, M/M, Mates, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Sesshoumaru indulges in being taken and marking Miroku's back with his claws to both of their mutual satisfaction.
Relationships: Miroku/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha)
Kudos: 12





	Claiming Welts

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked writing this from Sesshoumaru's POV and the style in which I wrote this.

If he were a different sort of man, he might have wanted to see the pale and unblemished canvas of the monk’s pale back marred by red welts and to hear his pleas as he begged for mercy, for forgiveness, anything to stop the pain.

But he was not that sort of man and never would be.

Or so he had thought, for he had occasion to find himself admiring just such red marks,  _ claw marks _ , on that pale back as his human consort all but purred with the satisfaction of a task well done, of enjoyment shared and the pleasure he had bestowed. It was different seeing those marks now that his bottom was still feeling the surprisingly pleasing feeling of having been well used and thoroughly and utterly  _ had _ . That he had embarked on such an endeavour with his human, the only human he would ever allow to touch him in such a manner, had surprised his mate perhaps more than himself.

‘You want me to…’ to have rendered the monk speechless had been a rare pleasure to savour and the heady overpowering spike of his own arousal as he saw the clear want had been a revelation.

‘I never ask for things I wish not to do,’ he had replied, running his hand along his lover’s jaw before claiming his lips in a growling kiss that had left even himself, youkai and superior in all ways to mortals, quite breathless in the aftermath. ‘You cannot claim that you do not wish for it,’ he had said then, ‘I can  _ smell it on you. _ ’

And see, but that he had not said, as it would have been superfluous, having been quite obvious. His only concern in regards to the member in question had been that it would spill and lose firmness before he had had a chance to feel it within his person.

There had been no discomfort during, it hadn’t felt too much at any point, his body quickly adjusting, and he had found the sensations more than amenable, realizing rather quickly why his monk liked it so.

He had let himself go, a little controlled amount, even when he had not felt submissive or not in control, not even with his monk’s,  _ Miroku’s _ member within his body. He had held onto him, laying on his back and had raked the claws of his remaining hand along that perfectly pristine back as he had urged his partner on.

As he looked at those marks now, the only regret he had was that they were strangely lopsided, only on the one side, reminding him of his lost arm.

But he had been fucked well and found release in his mate’s arms, discovering a new thing, which was a rarity in and of itself, and a few missing claw-marks were a small thing.

His monk shivered and hissed as he ran the pad of one finger over a particularly deep mark, finding himself growing excited again, and… realizing that there was a solution to his dilemma, a way to balance the marks.

‘Do they hurt too much?’ he asked, a little perfunctorily perhaps, but not unkindly, and his monk knew his ways, his mannerisms, wouldn’t get offended.

‘Not too much, my love,’ his mate said and he scented the truth of his words.

‘I find myself ready once more, would you be amenable to being fucked?’ 

‘You have to ask?’ his mate asked, chuckling, already pushing his shapely bottom for him to better grasp it where he would like best. ‘I’m  _ always _ amenable.’

The scent of Miroku’s arousal had never dissipated, even when it had waxed and waned, and he knew that the body under his hand would grow to new hardness again, being young and the mate of a youkai. Before he put his hands properly to prepare his monk, he reached for the mating mark on the side of his neck and pressed on it, hard.

His love squirmed under him and made a gasped noise and his shoulders heaved and he pushed his bottom higher.

Sesshoumaru let his hand trail along all that skin on display for him, all those lovely parts of his mate that were his and his alone to touch and fondle and to make bleed, if it so pleased him. He was looking at the lopsided claw marks again, once more wondering, finally voicing his question. He ran a gentle touch over them and his love shivered.

‘Did you like this?’ he asked, wanting the words now, even when his nose and body had felt the clear evidence of  _ yes _ .

‘I liked it and how desperate you seemed for it. I saw how much  _ you _ liked it. Thank you for allowing me.’

_ Oh _ .

‘It was not a one time occurence, we shall have to do it again. And again. And again.’

There was a noise from his love that could not be considered a word by any definition. He knew that Miroku was imagining it, imagining how much stamina being mated to a youkai would give him, about which of them would tire first, stay hard longer?

He wondered himself if he would find himself growing a preferaece for being taken, although that seemed a little far fetched with the way he truly enjoyed having his monk under him or on his lap as they shared their pleasures, as he took him, filling him, sometimes wondering if it might take if he did it enough, even when doing it for pleasure alone was more than enough.

He took his time preparing Miroku, ignoring his squirming, as well as his words, which were a waste of breath as it had always been clear to his love that he knew, could scent when he was ready and when not.

Could possibly scent it from leagues away.

Finally and too soon, his member breached the body of his monk instead of his stretching fingers and he put his claws to work on gripping a little too hard, marking his mate as  _ claimed _ while he listened to the sound of his delight and revelled in the sea that was his arousal, his pleasure heightened by pain.

The end result was more pleasing than he had thought it would be, and he would do the same again without a doubt.


End file.
